


In The Flesh

by Ally_Futuras



Series: Elysium [5]
Category: DmC: Devil May Cry
Genre: Brothers, Drabble, Foreshadowing, Gen, Neutral Ground, Nods to, they love each other you guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:49:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22589692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ally_Futuras/pseuds/Ally_Futuras
Summary: 'Is this not what you expected to see?'After years being apart, Dante stumbles upon the one person who he'd wanted to see for long. Though, things do not always go as planned.
Relationships: Dante & Vergil (DmC)
Series: Elysium [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1429837
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	In The Flesh

“We were supposed to stick together,” Dante muttered, the thick irritation and exhaustion in his voice ever so present, “None of this was part of the plan.”

Vergil sat beside him, nodding his head slowly while in thought. Dante was never one to keep his words to himself, just as much a curse as it was a blessing. He at least kept the silence between them from growing uncomfortable but most of what he spoke would eventually drive Vergil up a wall, even in his current state. How they came to find each other, Vergil could only conclude as good luck. Being in the right place at the right time.

“No,” he agreed with his brother at last, a curve to his lips as he kept a bitter-sweet smile from spreading over his sweat stained face, “But was there ever _really_ a plan?”

It felt somewhat odd, reminiscing over a past that seemed almost long forgotten. Neither would ever truly forget it and yet they spoke of the occurrence as though it happened on a different planet entirely. A different life.

His brother's hair was sloppily kept, Vergil noticed. His clothes in no better state, even before their unavoidable brawl. The rips and tears didn’t seem too out of place, Dante was never very careful anyway. His spirit, even in his beaten condition, never faltered or displayed anything but content or satisfaction. 

A rumble of what seemed to have first been a laugh, turned into a coughing fit, escaping Dante’s throat eagerly. The blood covering his tongue now stained the sleeve of his coat as the hunter wiped his chin. “Maybe at first there was a plan. But honestly, I think we just wung it.”

His voice was no more than a whisper but Dante could almost hear his brother muttering, ‘‘ _Wung’ isn’t a word.’_

So much of him had stayed the same. Then again, it hadn’t been _that_ long that they had parted ways, had it? Vergil was strong, sure, although Dante had been caught off guard with having found his brother so suddenly. That in itself was blame enough for his untimely loss. He’d _missed_ his brother, only until recently was the fact at last proven after years of wondering.

There was so much they had previously done, so much they had accomplished and still wanted to accomplish. The tragedy was in the fact that neither could or possibly ever would completely agree with the other. Even now, as they sat beside one another, resting together and having been hurt together, Dante felt the warmth of something akin to frustration spread inside him. Frustration over what could have been. 

It didn’t matter how many times Dante avoided thinking of the subject entirely, it always returned. _He’s killing you._ Of course he was. They always hurt each other. It was inevitable.

From the very beginning, they had been doomed. There was no helping it. Vergil had known exactly what his end goal consisted of. The _plan_ was for Dante and him to stay together through it all. Well, no plan ever really went smoothly, any idiot could have told Dante that.

It _was_ a tragedy, really, what had happened to them. One that they each understood, hated, and somehow still respected to an extent.

Even now, having found each other once more, their unyielding tempers got the best of them. Though the initial relief was present the entire time. The lonely unspoken fact, one Dante was far accustomed to, being comforted from the realization that his brother was alive and well. 

He wondered whether Vergil felt the same.The sense of _relief_ when realizing Dante was alive and well. All those months, all those years, deep down _hoping_ to catch a glimpse of his brother. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that their meeting would end so violently. All the pent up rage and frustration had to be let out eventually. 

Feeling an itch rise in his throat, Dante sat up, spitting blood out from his mouth almost angrily to the debris at their feet. His side aching, he groaned while sitting up, keeping a hand firmly against his wound, “Now, I know-”

“Stay seated, Dante.” Vergil urged, a filthy hand coming over to offer his brother assistance.

“Relax, Doc.” Dante swatted his hand away and made himself more comfortable, his chest heavy with dread over his own thoughts, ”See, I know now. At least... I think I do.”

Vergil didn’t bother answering his brother, only waving his hand slightly for him to continue. The exhaustion seemed just as present on his facial expression as it did in his brother’s voice. With his eyelids fighting to stay open, the sound of Dante's ragged breathing kept him awake.

They were supposed to stay together. Everything was supposed to work out in the end. What had really happened to them? There were times Dante wished he could remember peculiar instances from his childhood that he _wanted_ to see. He wanted to be able to recall birthdays alongside his brother. How had they treated one another after a fight? Did they ever give each other small trinket gifts? Had they sloppily sung nonsense into stories while acting out their imaginary worlds? 

All Dante was left with was a foggy memory of his brother simply _being there._ Though, he’s lucky sometimes. A sudden smell while on the street will spark his memory of both he and Vergil, playing in a patch of dirt as children. Or the ring of a bell while in the city, reminding him of a moment when they had played hide-and-seek late into the night. 

These few instances lasted too short a time. And the memory would always fade away just as soon as Dante had regained it. The only solid memories he had now, were of the tainted times he and Vergil had fought alongside one another and evidently against each other. He remembered the pain, the agony, the hurt of what his actions had caused.

“We never wanted to leave you.” Dante suddenly admitted, his words as gentle and sincere as ever. He never wanted their paths to separate as they had. This was family, the only family he had ever known. But Dante was given no other choice, having to make such a dreaded decision and drown in the pain of his act. He wanted Vergil to know this, to understand why he did what he did. The choices they were expected or forced to make.“There was so much we didn’t want to have to do.”

“There will always be sacrifices to be made.” Vergil answered easily, wiping some of the dried blood from his palms.

“Would you please shut up and let me talk,” Dante snapped, eyeing his brother dangerously, “I’m dying.”

With a faint sigh, Vergil didn't bother with a response. His brother knew well enough when he wanted to be heard and so Vergil let him speak, though he had grown tired of Dante's words. He was beginning to annoy him. 

“I told her you were long gone," Dante started with a low growl in his voice. He wanted to hurt his brother. Make him realize his mistake and make him live with the pain that Dante himself had lived with for years, "Told her you were _dead_ and we were both better off without you. That was close to five years ago now. Shit, I’d almost believed it myself too.”

The only possible way to live with some kind of peace was to live in his own deceit. Dante could recall those days easily. He and Kat were two lost souls, in search of some type of purpose in their tattered lives. They had lost it all. Lost the one individual who had bathed them with hope and determination to better not only themselves but the world. 

Losing his brother after only just having found him was something Dante never wanted to relive again. Not in the way he initially had.

Vergil was dead. It was as simple as that. With no brother in mind, Dante had no one but himself to worry about. He could go right back to square one. _He had no family._

“Except…” he continued vividly, a sigh escaping his cracked lips, “I didn’t _want_ to believe it, no matter how much I shoved the thought down my own throat. I always _knew_ you would be just fine.”

In the future, Dante would realize once again, to release those he loved would be alright as they would be safe, if not better off.

So many things he had done, all for the benefit of others, or so Dante kept telling himself. Creating the idea that his brother was dead and letting it spread not only through his own head but Kat's as well. All for what? For peace of mind? Ridiculous. Though the lie was not too far from the truth. Vergil was never there.

_“You’re not dead. But you might as well be.”_

Neither of them spoke. Vergil took the time to stand, wipe the loose dirt from his clothes and stare down at his brother who had no intention of moving. In his own eyes, Dante was acting like an infant. This would not be the last time they would come across each other, and Vergil knew that well. He felt no pain from his own wounds, no true physical ache only the emotional sting of some kind within the empty void within himself. 

“Well don’t just stand there like a moron," Dante spat out desperately, "Say _something_.”

Much like himself, Vergil believed his brother _would be just fine._

“Be safe,” he answered smoothly. There was still much for them to come across. Their story was nowhere near its end just yet. Though things had changed drastically, they would only continue to do so, “Things are not the way they once were.”

Dante didn’t worry him. He knew his brother could take care of not only himself but those around him. Dante was capable, annoyingly so. His own warm blood had stained Vergil’s hands, yet it bothered him less now than it had at first. The most irritating thing was the fact that Vergil knew his brother had gone easy on him. Such weakness only derived from love. 

“You always were the most dramatic,” Vergil remarked with a final nod of his head, _"_ _T_ _ake care of yourself, Dante.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Ahem… I wung their relationship *badum tss* and didn’t even know the meaning of dichotomy until I looked it up. But still, ask and ye shall receive, dear bees knees and other fellow readers. I had a little extra time on my hands and did another little drabble and also because I don’t write Vergil enough, I need more practice, so there ya all go. Pink Floyd is very helpful when writing btw. And thank you for the birthday wishes as well! This will be another year of hopefully very successful writing!
> 
> P.S. Maybe little nods or foreshadowings to other of my works (and/or unpublished works) are hidden in here hehe Oh and if things are confusing please let me know, sometimes I think I'm being clever or think everyone will understand something (like a nod to another work or whatevs) when in fact I accidentally make it more confusing or make zero sense. Anyhow, enjoy reading!!


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